The Right to Ask
by Ragingceliac
Summary: While traveling with Clover, the LW realizes she can't read. He decides to teach her how. Fluffy one-shot.


**Clover ground** her teeth, wincing against the onslaught of fear and stress that threatened her composure. She vaulted over a concrete barrier that came up to her waist and emptied both barrels of her sawed-off shotgun in the direction of two yellow-orange super mutants that had a hunting rifle each. They jeered at the ex-slave whilst they fired a volley at her form, that was making a beeline for the husk of a car. The mutants' shots went wild, but forced Clover into cover.

She crouched down behind the car's heavily rusted frame, which looked like someone had poured blood over it to make it so red. Clover loaded another buckshot shell into each of her sawed-off's barrels and risked a glance over the car.

Adam, the kid she'd been traveling with for the past few weeks, was bolting towards her and the car she'd taken refuge behind, 10mm gripped with perilous looseness. Internally the ex-slave was shaking her head. The car was last-ditch thing, and something she'd normally give a wide berth in and out of combat. She'd only resorted to it because the pair had been caught, rarely, off-guard and had only just escaped the first group of mutants only to encounter another, smaller party outside the metro tunnel they'd just fled out of. Then they sprinted up the stairs to emerge into the open street, Clover felling one of that smaller party on the way.

Now she was here, stuck behind a car, while a pale, skinny kid was sprinting toward her with a backpack that jangled with it's contents with his every footfall. She shook her head just as Adam vaulted over the car and crouched down next to her. The ex-slave saw that beads of sweat were beginning to run down his forehead. Clover peeked over the car's edge, only to duck back down when a bullet whizzed over her head. Adam was frowning.

He closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. Clover tilted her head to the side.

"Got an idea, kid?" she asked, to which Adam was silent for a moment. Clover watched as he opened his eyes and slid his backpack off his shoulders. He unzipped a smaller pocket near the front, reached inside, and withdrew a frag grenade. Clover shook her head, jerking down when the one of the mutants fired a shot that pinged against the car.

"You can't be serious. You have a terrible throwing arm!" she said, exasperated. That was indeed true, as Adam had shown when he'd failed miserably to hurl one at a group of raiders they'd encountered a few days earlier, near the Farragut metro. Adam, though, didn't seem perturbed by Clover's stating of one of his weaknesses.

"I do," he said. "But you don't." That, also, was true. Clover's cheeks began to flush before she fought it down.

"W-what are you suggestin' s-" Clover nearly said 'Sir' but caught herself. "-Adam." Her companion decided not to comment on it, holding the hand with the grenade in it to Clover.

"You throw it at the mutants there," Adam said, poking his head over the car's husk and pointing toward a piece of concrete that had likely fallen off after DC was bombed where the super mutants had congregated. Adam ducked down as they fired at him. The bullets went wide, again. "And hopefully it'll kill them. Just in case, after you throw the grenade, we charge their position to take advantage of their disorganization." Clover frowned, too, and after a moment's consideration nodded.

"But isn't that super fuckin' risky?" she pointed out as she took the grenade from Adam. The young man nodded.

"You have a better plan?" said Adam. Clover's cheeks began to flush again, but she suppressed it.

"No." she stiffly replied. Her companion nodded, zipping up his backpack and setting it beside him.

"Ready?" he asked. Clover nodded. She pulled the pin on the grenade, leaned right out from the car's edge, and threw the grenade with all her strength toward the two super mutants. It soared through the air as the ex-slave jerked herself to the left. There was a sharp explosion and cries a few moments later. Clover shot Adam a final glance, but he had already stood up and was mid-way through vaulting over the car. She did the same, a few steps behind him as he sprinted toward the mutants' cover.

She got there only a moment after Adam did, and the scene had her nose scrunching up. There was a scorch mark next to the body of a super mutant; it was bleeding profusely, the blood silently spreading its crimson across the pavement. Clover's eyes traveled up and down the body, and she had some difficulty fighting her gag reflex. The mutant's front side was utterly shredded, the grenade's shrapnel having torn into their skin with unbridled ferocity; yellow muscle was exposed, and their wrists had suffered greatly. Their face was missing its eyes, nose, and mouth - instead it was an unrecognizable pulp that wasn't even the colour of their skin. She tore her eyes away from the corpse, jumping slightly as she heard a moan. She turned to see Adam standing, frozen, staring at he second mutant.

They were missing a leg and arm, but hadn't lost their head like their compatriot. No. They'd instead lost their right arm and leg, and as such couldn't balance themselves. Their hunting rifle had been knocked out of their hands, too, so they were stuck lying on the ground. They couldn't manage to glare at Adam, such was the pain they were experiencing. Clover walked over to Adam, prepared to snap him out of his staring when the young man began to raise his pistol.

Arm shaking, Adam closed his eyes and leveled it at the mutant's head. He sucked in a shaky breath, and fired. Clover walked up behind him, but he shook his head.

"I know what you're gonna ask. I'm fine. Just… I guess I never thought of those things as actual… _things_ with feelings, you know?" he said, turning to Clover. The ex-slave was silent, surprised slightly by Adam's assumption of her intentions - which had been correct.

"Guess so." she said, trying to appear nonchalant. "We should probably find a place for the night," Clover pointed to the sun that was just beginning to set. A single eye brow of Adam's raised slightly but he nodded.

"Okay," he responded. "Let me grab my bag." And that he did, along with the hunting rifle of the mutant who had lost their legs. Clover's brow shot up when he'd collected everything.

"Thought you came from a vault. Aren't ya supposed to be against that kinda thing?" she asked. Adam looked at her, brown locks untidily falling against his forehead.

"It's dead." he said with an air of defensiveness. "It… I need it and I killed it. I earned it." He turned away from Clover, a blush beginning to spread across his face. He looked firmly at the ground for a moment.

"Let's find some place to stay." he said finally, and began walking briskly down the street, newly acquired hunting rifle cradled in his arms. Clover felt a small grin tugging at her lips before it faltered, a small amount of guilt filtering into her emotional state. _You've made him uncomfortable,_ she told herself. _You know that people who are working together aren't supposed to do that._

Shaking her head, Clover caught up with Adam, who was standing before the door of an abandoned store, with an unhinged neon sign that read: "Fred's Fantabulous Goods". It wasn't glowing, of course, but it still made Clover internally sigh with amusement.

Adam cast her a quick glance, before cocking his hunting rifle and slowly opening the door. It made a long, drawn-out creaking noise that made him cringe before he took a moment to activate his pip-boy's flashlight function and entered.

The store itself was like many abandoned pre-war shops; the majority of its shelves were empty, with the odd empty can left behind by whoever had entered there last. Dust coated everything, and the only light in the entire room came from a nuka-cola machine in the far right corner. Though even that emitted a sputtery and dim light at best. Freezers ran along the right wall, across from the cash register and checkout counter. They were empty, too, but one remained locked. Adam's eyes traveled to it of their own accord, and Clover looked followed the imaginary line they created.

"You think you can crack that?" asked Clover. Adam nodded slowly.

"Maybe," he said quietly. He hoped he could, because he saw at least ten things of cram in there, in softer packaging too, which wouldn't make as much noise as the canned ones he had in his backpack. "Could you watch the door?" he asked. Clover nodded.

And he set to work, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders and lowering himself to the lock's level. It hurt his back a bit, but it would all be worth it were he to get into it. Retrieving a container of bobby pins and a screwdriver, he let a frown cross his face as he worked.

It was fiddly lock, he'd give it that. He broke at least two pins finding the sweet spot, and finally succeeded after another snapped, to which he swore quietly.

"Got it!" he whispered excitedly as he heard the tell-tale click of the lock opening. He grinned as he collected the cram, which he knew wasn't affected by temperature, despite it being in the frozen isle. _What stores will do,_ he thought. He unzipped the pocket in his backpack he'd reserved for food and put nine packages inside, reserving one for him and Clover to share for that night. He turned to see the ex-slave's head turned in his direction.

"It's open," he said happily. "I'll start the fire." And, whilst Clover pulled a folding chair from a janitorial closet and set up in front of the door, Adam took out a lighter and some pre-war money and kneeled down. After a few minutes spent getting the money lit and taking out a suitably large fire, he carefully put a thick piece of shriveled up Birch wood atop the flame, with some more pre-war money added for good measure. He got up and approached Clover, tapping her on the shoulder. She turned to him and looked up.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"The fire's ready," Adam said. "We can eat now." Clover nodded, noting that he said 'we' instead of 'you'. It was something the ex vault dweller probably wasn't aware of, but it was a small way that Clover reminded herself that they had a partnership going.

Adam sat across from Clover and took a combat knife out of his boot. Clover squinted at the label.

"That cram?" asked Clover. Adam looked up in surprise and, in a moment of distraction,accidentally pricked his finger. He swore, and Clover had to fight hard to keep her flinch internal. "Sorry!"

"No problem," Adam said. "Anyway. Yeah this is cram. It says it right here," he held the cram up to the firelight, giving Clover a better look.

"Right..." she responded, with some sheepishness. Adam frowned, tilting his head to the side. Why would she be embarrassed? Was she near-sighted? Maybe she was far-sighted? Adam shook his head. He was beginning to chew his lower lip when he came to a conclusion that made sympathy fester in his gut.

"You know how to read, right?" Clover's face nearly flushed completely before she caught her reaction, but was still unable to meet Adam's gaze. Sh was sure it was disappointed, or he at least thought less of her now. He came from a vault; literacy was something Clover was confident every person in there was capable of, and she was willing to bet that they were also taught about barbarians who couldn't write. Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Clover sighed.

"No." she said in a hushed voice, as she were uttering the plan to a slave revolt. Adam's frown deepened.

"Sorry?" Clover's sheepish gaze turned into a glare.

"No." she repeated, voice still quiet.

"Sorry? Could you repeat that again?" Adam asked. Clover finally directed her gaze to Adam, glaring at the young man witheringly.

"No. I can't fuckin' read." she said stiffly, to which Adam's eyes widened a bit. He was silent for several moments, mulling over his choices: he could say nothing more on the subject and offer to take watch, show some type of sympathy or pity (which would most definitely result more four-letter words from Clover) or offer something that made _him_ a bit uncomfortable. He could offer to teach her how to read, which if accepted could help them form a closer friendship - which would definitely help their teamwork - and, as an added bonus he felt a tad saddened to admit, would help keep the loneliness of the Capital at bay. After suffering a few more moments under Clover's uncommonly withering glare, he made his choice.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Would you like to learn how?" Any indignation that flared at Adam's 'I'm sorry,' disappeared as he finished his sentence. Clover's eyes were the wide ones now, with shock replacing embarrassment. Adam, someone who she'd just met just barely a month before, had offered her an opportunity to learn something - something very useful, too - after she'd just snapped at him.

"Um… yes?" Clover replied uncertainly. Adam's face immediately hardened.

"Okay," he said, setting the cram down and reaching inside his backpack. Clover watched him fish around for a few seconds, before realizing something.

"What's the catch?" she blurted out. Adam's fishing stopped. He looked at her, confused.

"'Catch'?" he said, bemused. Clover nodded.

"The catch. What do you want in return?" to that Adam shook his head, looking offended.

"There isn't any catch to this," he said firmly. "You don't know how to read, and I'm teaching you." he finished, as if that settled the issue. Clover frowned. _Vault thing,_ she decided after a few moments. By that point Adam had gotten out a beaten-up notepad and pen.

"We'll start with the basics," he said, moving to sit next to Clover, dinner forgotten. The ex-slave felt a small feeling of uncertainty as he sat. _He's not the type to ty anything,_ she told herself.

"This is an A," Adam said, showing Clover the letter. Her eyes memorized the shape.

"Ay," she sounded out, and Adam nodded.

"Yep, and this is a B." he wrote the letter. Clover's eyes took in its shape, too.

"Bee," she sounded. Adam nodded, smiling slightly.

"Good. This is a C," he wrote that letter too before showing it to Clover. Midway through her studying it, Adam spoke again.

"And Clover?" The ex-slave looked up. He met her eyes with a meaningful look in his. "You have the right to ask for things like this." Clover was surprised by that statement, too, but nodded despite.

"Thanks," she said, a rare softness in her voice. She was legitimately thankful. Adam smiled.

The night wore on, Clover sounding the letters of the alphabet with Adam eventually letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn. Clover looked up from her examination of the p, the small amount of irritation she got from getting interrupted fading rapidly when she saw how Adam was rubbing his eyes.

"You mind taking first watch?" he asked with another yawn. Clover nodded, still holding the notepad in her hands. Adam got up and stretched, approaching his backpack. He withdrew a sleeping mat and set it a few feet away from the fire. He saw Clover walk over to the folding chair she'd set in front of the shop's door and sit down, able to just make out the outline of the notepad. Before he curled up with his back to the fire, his eyes found the cram that started it all. He fell asleep with a small smile on his face.

* * *

 **I need to get more consistent. The idea came to me and some research told me on Clover's character on the wiki never mentioned her being able to read, and the idea for this just wouldn't go away. And, honestly, I find a relationship between this Adam - this is the one from "The Whole, Sad Story" and "The Mistakes We Make", by the way - and Clover fun to write. He doesn't own her, and instead of writing someone flirtatious and making a typical shy-boy-reacting-to-unexpected-advances story, the Clover I've created feels like a more dynamic character to me and allows for differentiation from other stories featuring her. Because he treats and believes her to be an equal, and she's not used to that. I'm also a tad attached to the pair. ;D**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked this enough for it to warrant a review. It would make my day. 'Till next time. - Raging Celiac**


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